


trust me?

by tigerfish



Category: Brooklyn Nine-Nine (TV)
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Gen, Language, Minor Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-17
Updated: 2017-08-17
Packaged: 2018-12-16 16:34:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,043
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11832660
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tigerfish/pseuds/tigerfish
Summary: "Do you trust me?”"Not in the slightest.”“Smart move, great idea, really. 100% agree with the sentiment. But, I’m going to need you to trust me for this.”





	trust me?

**Author's Note:**

> the police work in this is probably......... very inaccurate but i wrote this last night at 12am and the last time i had any interaction with cops was when one breathalysed me at a safe driving course so
> 
> prompt is from [here](http://www.perxlta.tumblr.com/post/164285735924/the-modern-typewriter-do-you-trust-me-not)

It was honestly supposed to be a routine stakeout. Unfortunately, as Amy was learning, nothing was routine when you were partnered with Jake Peralta. McGinley tended to partner detectives at random, with no regard for for who worked best with each other. Amy doubted he'd even seen a spreadsheet in his entire life. Though, probably, neither had Peralta.

They were currently crouched behind their former stakeout car, former being the operative word as it was about as close to Swiss cheese as a car could ever get, their guns drawn and completely surrounded by perps with much bigger guns. In lay men's terms: they were fucked. 

She shot one of her particularly good dirty looks at Peralta, who wasn't even looking, "This is all your fault." 

He made a vague noise, looking lost in thought.

"I'm serious, your stupid orange soda got us into this mess. If I die here I want Jake Peralta is a goddamn idiot on my tombstone." 

That got his attention. "Thats what you want on your grave?" 

"It's appropriate." 

"Quit fucking about!" a voice from behind the car called. "There's nowhere to go!" 

Amy shook her head, carefully tampering down the panic that was rising into her throat. If she got through this she goddamn deserved a cigarette. "So. What's the plan?" 

"If they wanted us dead they would have just shot us right?" He said, distractedly.

"...I mean i guess?", she replied. "Could just be they want it public." 

He shuddered, "Ugh don't say that."

"Are you going to come out or are we going to have to drag you out?" The voice called again.

"What do you want?" Peralta called back. 

"None of your fucking business!" 

He turned back to face her,"Do you trust me?” 

“Not in the slightest.” 

“Smart move, great idea really. 100% agree with the sentiment. But, I’m going to need you to trust me for this.”, he handed her his gun. "Code word is orange soda.", he paused. "If I die, tell Charles it was awesome."

"Wait wha-"

"Okay I'm unarmed. I'm coming around. Don't shoot." He stood up slowly.

Amy gripped her guns until her knuckles went white, screw deserving a cigarette, she needed ten. She watched Peralta'a legs disappear around the side of the car, expecting a gunshot at any moment, honestly the fact that nothing was happing was more terrifying.

"This wasn't my _four_ o'clock plans to be honest, maybe we can work something out?" 

She quickly checked her watch. One thirty. So either there were four perps or Peralta had gotten the time horribly wrong, like the time he came in and asked why there were no Christmas decorations. In May. 

She prayed he had checked his watch for once and that there were only four perps. They could handle four so long as Peralta didn't get himself shot within the next minute. 

"Man shut up and get over here." 

"Yeah, yeah I'm coming." 

Everything was silent except for thumps of his footsteps.

"Get on the ground. And call your partner out." 

There was a thump, presumably as he was pushed to the ground. "Okay but, before we die, can I have one last orange soda." 

Everything slowed down. There was a yell, a thud and a sickening crack. Amy's wrung out brain finally processed what had happened and she stood, quickly incapacitating two of the four (so maybe Peralta wasn't a complete idiot) perps, careful to try not to give them any fatal wounds and vaulted over the car. 

She pulled the guns out of the two incapacitated perps and threw them as far away as she could then turned to where Peralta was struggling with the final perp, the other sprawled on the ground in a daze. 

He might have caught them off guard but he was still unarmed and on the ground and took a particularly nasty hit in the face from the butt of a gun before Amy could reach them and wrestle it out of the man's hands.

"Hands behind your head!", she yelled pointing her gun at him, Peralta's discarded back at the car. She clicked on her radio, "Peralta and Santiago need backup and medical attention at the site of gang stakeout asap." 

The acknowledgment came through as she was cuffing the one conscious and unmamed perp and Peralta checked on the three injured. He turned around and she caught sight of his very bloody nose and an extremely impressive bruise already forming under his left eye.

"Peralta, you-", she gestured to his face. 

He looked at her in confusion and brought his hand up to his face, coming away with blood coating his fingers. He grinned, almost manically, "Sick." 

~*~

Perslta had been driven off to the hospital along with the perps to get his face looked at while Amy was straight back to her desk to fill out the appropriate forms. It was probably a good thing Jake wasn't here, at least this report wouldn't have stains and messy doodles covering it. She savoured the report as she came down off a serious adrenaline high, turning her surroundings out to the point that she forgot about the ten cigarettes she promised herself.

"Hey.", she looked up to see Peralta, hovering over her desk.

"Weren't you at the hospital?" She asked, in lieu of a greeting.

"Well hello to you too.", he smiled, then winced. "Nah I'm fine, just a sweet facial fracture, I'm supposed to take a couple days off but I thought you'd want my signature on some of this stuff. And I forgot this in my drawer.", he held up a half eaten bagel and Amy had to repress the urge to knock it straight into the bin.

Completely ignoring the bagel she pushed the file towards him and handed him a pen (one that she didn't mind burning immediately after).

"There you go!", he said, pushing the form along with his horrible, chicken scratch signature back to her. "Well, I'm off to watch master chef for 24 hours straight." 

She rolled her eyes, "See you later, Peralta." 

He grinned, obviously repressing a wince, "See ya, Santiago." 

He made to walk over to the elevator before turning back.

"Oh, yeah , Santiago?"

She hummed.

"Thanks for trusting me."

**Author's Note:**

> follow me on tumblr [@perxlta](http://www.perxlta.tumblr.com) :^)


End file.
